Impulse
by MirandOnABox
Summary: Lime slash. Kirk wanders the Enterprise late one night, and runs into his favorite piece of Russian jailbait. Kirk/Chekov. MAY OR MAY NOT ADD A LEMON THIRD CHAPTER.
1. Chapter 1

Kirk had always been a fan of staying up late.

But now aboard the Enterprise, it was different. He still enjoyed the luxury of staying up late, but for less then luxurious reasons. As a captain, your work was never done.

So tonight, like most nights, Kirk found himself awake in the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep, on account of the Enterprise.

Sure, for the past week it had been smooth sailing through calm seas, but that never put the young captain at ease. If it were up to him, he'd stay at his chair all day and all night, not daring to leave the bridge without his watch. But the crew cares for Kirk, almost as much as he cares for them, so in an un-caring fashion, every night they send him to his room for sleep.

But of course, sleep is out of the question. So for the past two hours Kirk's been doing the usual: pacing, thinking about the enterprise, sitting, thinking about the crew, pacing, thinking about upcoming missions, sitting, thinking about the crew, and so on and so forth.

Then . . . the overwhelming nag hit him like a bus.

He could check the bridge. Just. This. Once.

It would be empty, seeing as the ship was on autopilot from midnight to six in the morning. Kirk contemplated the idea, it would be just to put him at ease, to calm his nerves, assure him that all truly _was_ well on the Enterprise, his baby.

The captain looked at himself in the mirror. If he stepped out like he was it wouldn't be so bad, he had snuck around the Enterprise in just his boxer briefs before. His crew didn't give him much credit for it, but Kirk could be a pretty stealthy guy.

He mussed up his hair, and pressed the button to open his door. The hallways were clear; the only guards on night watch would be far from his room, patrolling the halls where _new_ recruits slept.

He found himself on the bridge. The lights were low, and everything seemed to be in fine working order. He walked over to his chair, and rested his hand on the arm or it. Kirk was reassured that everything was alright.

If only for a moment. Kirk was better prepared for an attack then a teenage Russian boy appearing in the doorway.

"K-keptin?" stuttered Chekov.

Kirk whirled around, and his jaw nearly dropped. Yes Chekov was here, yes Kirk was in his underwear, both of these things bothered him, combined they made the situation almost unbearable, but there was more.

Chekov, about five feet seven inches, looking like he weighed no more then 110lbs, was standing in the door in bright yellow Starfleet shorts and a black tank top, looked cute enough to eat.

The ensign rubbed his eye in a sleepy manner, and frowned, as if he didn't believe the scene, and figured he must be dreaming.

Kirk seized this opportunity to sprint back to the door of the bridge where Chekov stood, and simultaneously cover the young boy's mouth, and pined him against the wall.

In his own shadow, Kirk could just barely read the expression on the Russian's face. Chekov's eyes were wide, and he looked about ready to cry. It occurred to the captain that he might have pushed Chekov into something, and the boy was in pain. Kirk removed his hands from the young boy's mouth, and lowered his hands to his sides.

"S-sorry, Chekov, you just, ah, startled me." Kirk made up an explanation, in truth, he wasn't exactly sure _why_ he had pinned Chekov up against the wall like that.

"Um, it's okey keptin, no vorries." Chekov refused to look the captain in the face when he talked, instead he focused on the floor . . . and blushed furiously.

Kirk could feel his own face growing hot with blood, and he was thankful that the little light in the room was to his back, so the ensign could not see.

"Keptin, vat are you doing down 'ere? It's ze middle of ze night."

"I, um, well ensign, I could ask you the same thing. The Enterprise is my ship after all, why shouldn't I be down here. _You_ however . . ." Kirk told the boy, activating the captain in him.

"Ah, vell I um . . ." Chekov trailed off, looking like his cheeks were on fire.

Suddenly it clicked in his mind. Chekov, the blushing, the empty bridge, it all added up in his head.

So the captain leaned in.


	2. Chapter 2

In the dark, machines buzzing softly, lights of a hundred different colors dimly glowing on control panels, the captain kissed the young Russian ensign.

At first it was sweet, a small kiss to show infatuation, Kirk's lips barely brushed those of the ensign, but as it deepened, it became clear to Chekov what Kirk really wanted.

Chekov felt the pressure against his lips increase, and he found the need for air overwhelming, however, upon opening his mouth for much needed oxygen, Chekov felt the introduction of tongue. Kirk was an expert kisser, his tongue making fierce circles around that of Chekov's. It was a kiss that portrayed a cocktail of different intentions.

Kirk took a step forward, pushing himself into Chekov, and Chekov against the wall yet again. The same awkward object that the ensign had collided with before, met his back again, and Chekov arched himself as a reflex. It occurred to Chekov later that that involuntary arch was some kind of green light to Kirk, because the captain seemed to pick up vigor after that.

The captain pressed his hands against Chekov's stomach, and began slowly pushing his shirt up. Chekov tensed up with a sharp intake of breath.

"K-k-keptin, I, ah, I've newer, ah, newer . . ." Chekov panted as Kirk tongued his neck.

"Oh, well then I can assure you, ensign, if I'm going to be taking you, it won't be here on the bridge." Kirk breathed into the Russian's ear. "Your bed, or mine?"

"I, ah . . ."

"Hmm, I'm going to pretend you said mine." Breathed Kirk.

The captain bent his knees, picked Chekov up from his standing position, and held him in his arms like a bride.

"Keptin! I assure you I am wery able to valk!" Chekov said, sounding slightly offended.

"Ah but that wouldn't be any fun." Kirk told him as he carried Chekov through the door. "Besides, your entirely too cute, ensign, I can't keep my hands off of you."

If it were possible, the shade of red in Chekov's cheeks deepened.

Once out in the hallway, they found it empty as ever, however that did nothing to make Chekov more compliant. "Keptin, please, If somebody vere to valk up and see us-" he pleaded.

"-Then I would tell them to get the fuck off my ship, or I'd kick their ass." Smiled Kirk, taunting the young boy.

"Please, k-keptin . . ." Chekov said, sounding tired.

"Never. Answered Kirk.

They reached Kirk's room, and Chekov hung onto the captain's shoulder as Kirk fumbled to press his palm to the key pad, thus opening the door. Only the captain's room had such a lock. It assured that the captain could have privacy, lest he have pressing matters to attend to.

When Scotty installed this panel, neither him nor the captain imagined it would be to separate the following _activities_ from the rest of the ship.

Kirk threw the young Russian onto the bed, clearly in a hurry to begin ravishing the seventeen-year-old again.

Kirk crawled onto the bed, and continued towards Chekov unlit he was above the boy again. Chekov held his hands by his shoulders, and looked up at the captain, biting his lip.

Kirk, though anxious, paused. "If you're not ready . . . I'll stop." Kirk told him.

"No, it's . . . umm it's fine keptin. I'm . . . I'm just nerwous, that's all." Chekov responded. "Before dis I had newer ewen been to second base . . ." he admitted.

"Well then you've come to the right place Chekov." Kirk said, placing a soft kiss on the Russian's lips, "Because I'm practically a seasoned veteran."

Kirk placed his hands on Chekov's sides, and brushed the tips of his fingers against the bottom of the Boy's tank top, which had ridden some ways up the ensign's stomach. The captain grabbed the hem, and pulled Chekov's shirt off. Kirk leaned down and kissed the boy's collar bone. Slowly, he made a trail of kisses, and hickeys down the Russian's chest, an abdomen, until Chekov let out another sharp breath, as Kirk neared the top of the boy's shorts.

"Chekov . . ." breathed the captain, his mouth positioned just below the ensign's navel. "Just . . . relax."

"A-aye keptin." Said Chekov.


End file.
